Wherever the Wind Blows
by JustAGirl24
Summary: What happens when the boy who would never grow up starts to... and not of his own free will? Set in the 2003 movieverse. Peter and Wendy fic. NOT SAPPY! But definitely a romance. Doubly completed! Missing/repeated chapters fixed!
1. A Beginning

Based on the movie (which I loved), though disregards the last 15 seconds when Wendy says Peter never returned, because

_Based on the movie (which I loved), though disregards the last 15 seconds when Wendy says Peter never returned, because... um... I want to. Thanks to the wonderful reviewer Elventeen, I have a link to a website that has the actual story Peter Pan. It's www(dot)literatureproject(dot)com/peter-pan/index(dot)htm if you want to check it out._

_Author's Note: The hardest story for me to ever finish. Man. If anyone's still reading this thing... thank you. Thank you to all the terrific people who have kept reviewing even though I didn't update for almost three years. My life has been rather hectic over the past year or two. I got married, I started going back to school, and I just had a baby. Every time I tried to get this going again, I just couldn't get into it. I have been working on the ending for the past six months or so. The last two chapters are in the second draft stage and absolutely WILL BE DONE by next Friday. I hope it satisfies all the people who have been waiting four years for the completion. Cheers._

_I have gone back through this story and done some minor editing, spelling corrections and the like mostly, but there are a few very minor story additions, most you probably wouldn't catch even if you reread this whole thing. Be that as it may, I would still recommend that you start from the beginning. At the very least, reread Chapter 19, as I did some pretty extensive adding to that one._

_(To the one guy who thought it would be neat if they were writing a review to a dead person: Sorry to disappoint.)_

_(Oh yeah. You triplets are weird. In a good way. I'm not sure I even believe your comments—I'm thinking you're just one person--but they really entertained me anyway. Thanks. :)_

"Peter," Wendy whispered sadly, lowering herself into her window seat. It was evening in the Darling household and Wendy knew her father would be downstairs reading the paper beside the fireplace; her mother would be seated near him, working on needlepoint; and her brothers, along with the Lost Boys, were preparing for bed in the nursery. But Wendy... Wendy was in the one place she had been every night for the past three years: Seated in the window seat with the window flung wide open, staring up into the darkening sky as stars appeared one by one, and waiting. For, you see, it was the eve before Wendy's sixteenth birthday, and she was waiting for Peter Pan.

Wendy, Peter thought dimly. Wendy would know what was happening to him. Wendy would understand. Wendy could explain why everything that had once been stable, and dependable, and reliable, had been crumbling into nothing in the time she'd been gone. Why was he growing? Why was Neverland getting smaller? Why wasn't he forgetting?

Wendy, he knew, could solve everything.


	2. I Will Always Return

In the years that had passed since Wendy, John, and Michael's trip to Neverland many things had changed in the Darling household. First and most obvious was the addition of the Lost Boys. Toodles, Curly, Slightly, Nibs, and the twins... none of the Darlings could imagine what their lives would be like without the six additions. Mr. and Mrs. Darling had made do, even with a limited income, at adding six family members. But family they had become and all the boys still slept in the nursery, watched over by Nana. Wendy, however, was a different story entirely.

Within days of their return home Wendy had asked her parents if she might have her own room and had been moved within the week. Yes, her parents had agreed, she was far too old to be sharing a room with so many boys. And so Wendy had stayed in this room for three years, and sat at this window seat for three years, and waited in vain for the return of Peter Pan, for he had promised to return. And yet... three years had passed and he had still not come back. He had promised to not forget her... but perhaps he had. At this thought a tear ran down Wendy's cheek. What a terrible thought! She found it entirely impossible to forget Peter... but perhaps he had found it only too easy to forget her. Wendy bowed her head as her tears began to fall in earnest, plopping onto her hand one by one.

Finally, Peter thought, relieved. He was soaring over the foggy rooftops of London looking for the one window he sought. There! Still brightly lit, like they were waiting for him! He would see Wendy again, she would make everything all right, just like she always did! Peter flew faster and faster, stopping short so that he was hovering in front of the bright window. He peeked inside. There--John. And over there--Slightly. Toodles, Michael, the twins... but no Wendy! Peter tapped on the glass and saw John glance towards the window while the rest of the boys continued as they were. Peter waved frantically as he saw John's eyes bug out in surprise then watched as he ran towards the windows, the other boys pausing at his strange behavior.

"Peter!" John exclaimed as he flung the window up. Peter saw the rest of the boys dash for the window and heard cries of "Peter! Peter!" as he hovered above the cold London streets. "Peter," John said again, "you must come in!" Obligingly, Peter flew into the nursery and looked around. There he saw eight beds all crammed together, but that was all he noticed before the questions started flying at him.

"Hold on, hold on," Peter exclaimed irritably, floating down until he was standing on the floor of the nursery. He noticed the whispers suddenly stopped as the younger boys stared up at him. He noticed wryly that they were staring very up at him.

"Peter," Nibs whispered, "you grew up too!" Wondering whispers from the other boys accompanied this statement.

"I did," Peter said quietly. "But I don't have time for any more questions. Where has Wendy gone?" he asked, looking around.

Vaguely, as though through a great distance, Wendy thought she heard one of the boys say 'Peter!' but then all was quiet again and she shook it off as one of her imaginings. Many times she had dreamt of Peter's return, wanted it so badly she could hear his voice again... but those dreams never did come true, and the tears streamed even faster down Wendy's face as she remained in her window seat staring up at the stars.

"She moved out of the nursery," Michael told him solemnly. "Right after we returned."

"How long has that been?" Peter asked, brow furrowed.

"Three years," Michael replied quietly.

"Three years," Peter mused. "Is this a long time?" He looked at each one for an answer noticing how much they, too, had changed, how they had grown.

"Very long," John told him. Hesitating, he continued. "Wendy's missed you terribly. She doesn't say anything, but she thinks you've forgotten her."

Peter was horrified. "No," he said, shaking his head vehemently. "No, I could never forget Wendy." He paused for a moment. "Can I see her? She's why I returned, you see," he tried to explain. "She's the answer to everything."

Wendy heard her door open and watched an ever-growing sliver of light stretch across her bedroom floor.

"I'll be right in bed," she said quickly, bowing her head and trying to dry her tears, thinking it was her mother. She heard soft footsteps enter her room and hurriedly stood up, only to see the one person she thought she might never see again.

"Peter Pan," Wendy whispered, reaching a trembling hand out to touch his face, watching as his beautiful, crooked smile spread across his face. His face which, strangely enough, was getting black and cloudy around the edges...

THUNK!

Peter watched, warily, as Wendy's hand slowly came away from his face and she sort of... collapsed to the ground.

"Wendy!" Peter cried, realizing suddenly that this was something bad. He crouched down next to her and shook her shoulder a bit but that did nothing. So he sat and put her head in his lap, stroking her hair back from her face, gently slapping her cheek. As her eyes fluttered open dreamily he heaved a sigh of relief.

"Peter," she whispered again. "Have you come back for real?" she asked.

"I have," he said, just as quietly. "I've come back for real."

"How wonderful," she said dreamily. "I quite thought I would never see you again."

"No, never," he denied. "I told you I wouldn't forget you. I promised. And Peter Pan never breaks a promise," he said, trying to smile.

"Oh the cleverness of you," Wendy teased. She noticed she was still lying on the ground with her head in his lap and struggled to sit up.

"You helped a little," he said with a smile. Actually, he thought to himself, you were the whole reason. But he kept that to himself.


	3. Whatever is the Matter?

Peter helped Wendy into a sitting position then settled himself cross-legged so that he was hovering a few inches above the ground.

"Peter," Wendy said, quite seriously, "why have you returned?"

"Why to see you, of course," Peter answered, not quite looking her in the eye.

Wendy raised one eyebrow. "You've been gone for three years Peter, and now you've just decided to come back from out of the blue to visit me?" she asked. "No," she stated. "There's something else, I can see. I can't quite put my finger on it, but you're... different, Peter Pan." She stared at him, tapping her chin thoughtfully for a few moments with one finger.

Peter quickly grew frustrated, irritated, angry. "Maybe it's this!" he shouted suddenly, coming to stand on his own two feet. "I've changed, Wendy; I'm growing older, I'm getting taller, Neverland is crumbling at the edges, getting smaller and smaller, sinking into the sea..." Peter stopped abruptly, crouching down so he was face-to-face with Wendy. "Why am I growing, Wendy? Why is Neverland changing?" he asked pleadingly.

Wendy, for her part, could only watch quietly, wonderingly throughout this desperate display of confusion. "I'm afraid I don't know, Peter," she answered softly in a voice filled with regret.

"No," Peter said, shaking his head in denial as he sank to the floor. "No, no, you were supposed to know! Please Wendy think, you must know!" he cried.

"I'm trying, Peter," she said, tears starting to form in her eyes. "I just... I don't always have the answer," she whispered, bowing her head.

"Then it is no use," Peter whispered in a hollow voice. "I am to grow up, and be a... man," he said, finding it difficult to say the last word. Suddenly he shook his head fiercely. "No!" he shouted, jumping to his feet. "I am the Pan! I shall be a boy forever, and have fun! Nothing and no one will catch me and make me a man!" he cried, turning towards the window.

"And what will you do, Peter Pan?" Wendy asked softly, stopping him in his tracks. He turned to see her, still sitting on the floor. "Return to Neverland, where you will most undoubtedly continue to grow older?" she asked. "This shows no signs of stopping, Peter," she continued, rising to her feet. "Peter, to anyone else you look 17, maybe even 18 years old. To everyone else... you've already grown up," she finished softly.

"And what do I care what you think?" he cried. "You can't help, so no one can help... this was a stupid idea! To Neverland I shall return," he said fiercely. "I shall return, and I shall stay a boy." Peter stalked to the window and flung it open, and taking a deep breath he dove forward into flight... and fell back to the bedroom carpet.


	4. Go to Sleep

Wendy watched, horrified, as Peter continued to lay face down on her bedroom floor. Hesitantly, she stepped forward quietly.

"Peter?" she whispered tremulously. "Peter, why have you fallen?" she asked. Suddenly, she noticed that his shoulders were shaking. No--his whole body was shaking. "Peter!" she cried softly, grabbing his shoulder and turning him onto his back. He just stared dazedly up at the ceiling, still shuddering from head to toe with a blank look on his face. "Peter, Peter," Wendy chanted softly, rocking back and forth and hugging herself, "Oh Peter, what can be the matter?" she asked helplessly. She watched as Peter closed his eyes and saw a tear trickle from the corner of his eye and disappear into his hair. Desperately trying to think of some way--any way--she could comfort him, she started running her fingers through his hair, something her mother had always done to soothe her. She watched as his eyes fluttered open slowly to look at her. "Come, Peter," she said softly, knowing now was not the time for questions. She helped him to his feet and pulled his arm around her shoulder so that she might support him better as she lead him to her bed. "Lay down. Go to sleep," she instructed. "I'll be right here when you wake up," was her promise as she pulled the covers up to his chin and sat on the edge of the bed. Unconsciously she began running her fingers gently through his hair again, and at the soothing gesture Peter closed his eyes and slipped into sleep.

Hours later, Wendy jerked herself awake from a shallow sleep as she heard mutterings from the bed. It was Peter, tossing back and forth underneath his covers and apparently having a nightmare. But it was a nightmare unlike any she had ever heard of. He spoke every now and then, presumably from the nightmare, but each seemed to be from a different person's perspective as his voice raised and lowered in pitch.

In a high voice, she heard him mutter, "You, sir, are ungallant and deficient!" Wendy recognized her own words to him on the day he had been talking of killing 'Red-Handed Jill'.

"Deficient?" she heard him ask in his own voice.

She heard some indistinguishable muttering, then, "On the contrary, I find Captain Hook to be a man of feeling." Too late she regretted her words from the past as she watched Peter toss underneath the covers.

This time, in a deeper man's voice, she heard him say, "She was leaving you, Pan, your precious Wendy!" His precious Wendy? Who had said that to him? Perhaps... Hook?

More murmurings. "I will call out her name!" he muttered in his own voice.

Again the deeper voice. "She cannot hear you," then a laugh.

"Wendy, no!" he cried out.

"And there is another in your place. One who is called... husband!" Peter said in the deeper voice. Yes, Wendy thought, it must have been a conversation with Hook. During their final fight, when she had promised him that her kiss belonged to him always. Peter must be reliving actual moments from his past!

"Oh Peter," Wendy said softly, stroking his hair back from his forehead. Realizing that what everyone needed when reliving their darkest moments was comfort, she lay down beside him on top of the covers, holding onto his hand as tightly as she could. Gradually, as the muttering and tossing diminished, Wendy's hold on consciousness did too, and she slipped off to sleep again, missing the slight smile that formed on Peter Pan's face... the one that matched perfectly the one on her own.


	5. Look at Me, Way Up High

Wendy awoke to rays of morning sunlight on her face

Wendy awoke to rays of morning sunlight on her face. Slowly she opened her eyes... and was looking into someone else's!

"Eep!" Wendy cried, jerking backwards and falling off the bed with a soft 'oof!' She stayed on her back and stared at the ceiling, trying to regain her wits, when she saw a tousled blonde head appear over the side of the bed.

"Hello Wendy," Peter said solemnly, if a little groggily.

"Peter!" Wendy cried, jumping to her feet. "I... I thought I'd dreamt you," she admitted, half-embarrassed, shuffling her bare toes on the carpet. "Um..." she searched desperately for something to say.

"Wendy," Peter started seriously, breaking off anything she was going to say, "I can't fly."

"Can't fly?" Wendy gasped.

"No," Peter said, shaking his head slowly. "I've been trying and trying. I can't even get two inches off the ground."

"But I don't understand... how can that be?" Wendy asked with disbelief.

"I... I don't have any more happy thoughts," was his whispered answer.

"Peter... not even one?" Wendy asked, still not willing to believe. Her only reply was Peter slowly shaking his head.

"All I can think of, Wendy, is how I'm getting older; and one day quite soon I shall be very old. And in the meantime, I shall grow to be a man. And," Peter continued, glancing at her briefly, "since you came to Neverland, all I can think of is that Hook was right." Peter bowed his head, deep in thought.

"There is another in my place. One who is called... husband," Peter whispered half to himself as he stared at the comforter he was sitting on.

"Peter," Wendy began but was cut off abruptly.

"No!" he cried. "Do not deny it Wendy. One day there will be someone else. Someone who wants to grow up and be a man. Someone with feeling." He noticed Wendy staring at him sadly. He did not want her pity! "And I... I shall be forgotten," Peter said quietly, staring into space.

"No, no Peter," Wendy said vehemently. "I will never forget you. Never."

Peter half-smiled. "And will you marry?" he asked her. Wendy was taken aback.

"I... I suppose some day I must," she admitted slowly. "I am sixteen today... I shall be introduced in the next Season," she told him in a hesitating voice.

"And what does that mean?" Peter asked her.

"It--it means that I shall be introduced to the eligible men of the city, so that... so that--"

"--So that you can be married, is this not so?" Peter finished for her. "Yes," he whispered softly. "There shall be one called husband. And your kiss will no longer belong to me as you promised so long ago."

Peter paused for a moment, then looked her straight in the eye. Wendy could not help but stare back at him. He pushed himself up from the bed so he was standing in front of her, and she was suddenly struck again by how tall he had become.

"So you see, Wendy," he told her in a low, fierce voice, "there are no more happy thoughts. None at all." Wendy continued to stare at him as he spoke.

"You're wrong, Peter," she told him softly. She put her hands on his shoulders and raised herself on her tiptoes so that her face was mere inches from his. "My kiss will always belong to you. Forever," she whispered half a second before she placed her lips upon his.

Seconds could have passed, possibly hours or even days. Maybe, Peter thought dimly, another of these years they had mentioned. When Peter opened his eyes again he was still kissing Wendy, her eyes were still closed and her hands were still on his shoulders. And he was still in her bedroom, but it looked slightly different. What was it...? Then he noticed... they were floating mere inches from the ceiling.


	6. The Answer to His Question

Peter pulled a little away from Wendy, who opened her eyes in confusion. Then he smiled at her--that warm, crooked smile she loved so much and held so close to her heart. She smiled back, not noticing anything out of the ordinary.

"Wendy," Peter whispered, "look at your feet."

My feet? Wendy thought, confused. Were they dirty? She looked down... and immediately noticed that the ground was several feet beneath her. Panicking, she clutched Peter tightly as she began to sink.

"Whoa, whoa!" Peter cried, sinking with her until her feet were touching the ground again. He flew back a few inches and hovered in the air. "I didn't know you could still fly," he said casually.

"Neither did I," Wendy said wryly. "Wonders never cease, I suppose." At that Peter smiled, still hovering inches above the ground. "I've been thinking, Peter," Wendy said, suddenly serious. The smile slipped off of Peter's face.

"Yes?" he asked anxiously.

"Well, I've been trying to figure out why you've been growing and..." Wendy hesitated, looking as if she was trying to say something difficult.

"Yes?" Peter prodded. Had Wendy finally figured out what was wrong with him?

"Well, I don't wish to presume but I remembered several things Hook had said to me while I was in Neverland..." Wendy said, trailing off.

"And?" Was she ever going to get to the point?

Wendy took a deep breath. "One time, the time I was on his ship and he... he invited me to be storyteller on board, he said--well, um, that is..." Wendy trailed off again. Peter simply raised an eyebrow at her as if to say 'go ahead, I'm waiting'. Wendy took another deep breath, then continued. "We were talking about you and he said to me, 'My dear child, he cannot love. It is part of the riddle of who he is.'" Wendy glanced at him nervously. "And then there was the time on his ship when he was going to make me walk the plank but when I fell off you rescued me. But right before he made me walk, he told me to tell the story of Peter Pan." Wendy stole another look at Peter, but he just continued to hover in midair with a look of concentration on his face as if he was giving her words deep thought. "And he said he was going to use me as bait, he said 'So he _does_ have feelings for someone. He has feelings for you!" Wendy finished her little monologue and looked anxiously at Peter to see what his reaction would be, but he just continued looking as though he was thinking very hard.

"Peter," Wendy quavered, "do you think you might... _love_ me? And that this is why you are growing, and Neverland is disappearing, because your magic is gone?" she finished anxiously.

Peter sank until his feet touched the ground and finally looked at her. He stepped close to her, so close Wendy thought he might kiss her, and she watched as his head lowered towards her own--but at the last minute made a detour so that his lips were next to her ear.

"Love?" Peter whispered harshly. "I love _no_ one. The very thought sickens me." And with that he stood up sharply to look at her through narrowed eyes.

"I see," Wendy said slowly, feeling tears start to burn behind her eyes. "Well then," she said stiffly, "I see no other reason for you to be growing, Peter. Perhaps you shall just have to figure the riddle out on your own." And with that, Wendy turned on her heel and climbed back underneath her covers. "You know the way out," she said in a cracked voice, staring at the wall closest to her. "The window's right over there," she told him, pointing in the direction of the window.

"Wendy," Peter said slowly. "I--I did not mean--that is--I just--I--"

"_Go_ Peter," Wendy said shrilly, barely controlling her voice, which was feeling very shaky just then. "Go _back_ to Neverland, and forget all about me, because obviously I do not mean much to you at all." Wendy heard nothing, no footsteps, no breathing, nothing. But then, she heard the window slide open, and a few seconds later when she turned... Peter was gone. And Wendy cried herself back to sleep.


	7. Return to Neverland

Peter flew angrily towards Neverland, barely dodging chimneys and towers in his outrage

Peter flew angrily towards Neverland, barely dodging chimneys and towers in his outrage. What did Wendy know about him? What did Wendy know about _anything_?! Minutes later he was flying through space and soon he landed in Neverland, right next to the tree house. Peter was still livid as he entered his empty house, muttering angrily, self-righteously to himself. What _did_ Wendy know about anything, anyway?

And before Peter Pan knew it another month had passed... and he was still growing.

Wendy passed her birthday in celebration with her family. Her father gazed at her with such pride, telling her what a beautiful and accomplished woman she had become. And her mother looked at her with that special, soft look only her mother could give her. Her brothers and the Lost Boys beamed at her, though there was also a careful look behind their eyes for they could see that her encounter with Peter Pan had not gone as well as they'd hoped it would. One could tell by the forced smile on her face throughout the day, the puffy nose and slightly blotchy face. Her parents didn't seem to notice anything amiss but the boys surely did. But Wendy continued to smile and she never said a word to them, so they put it from their minds.

And before any of them knew it another month had passed... and everything was different.


	8. Easier Said Than Done

Since the day Peter Pan had returned Wendy had done everything in her power to forget about him

Since the day Peter Pan had returned Wendy had done everything in her power to forget about him. She no longer sat in her window seat every night and tried with all her might to push the memory of Peter from her mind. Whenever she thought about him she determinedly thought of something else--school, her family... anything.

This was, however, easier said than done.

Wendy kept a smile pasted on her face at all times, afraid that if she didn't her world might just come tumbling down. And so in this fashion a month passed, and Peter Pan did not return to her knowledge and she thought that perhaps truly Peter had finally forgotten about her.

Little did she know just how wrong she was.

Peter spent his time playing empty adventures in Neverland, visiting the Indians, and passing entire days with the mermaids. He inspected the shrinking borders of Neverland. But still he was alone. Every night he returned to the empty tree house where no one waited for him. No Lost Boys, no Tinkerbell even, for Tinkerbell had decided to remain with the rest of her kind soon after her return to Neverland. It had not taken her--or anyone else for that matter--long to realize that whether or not Peter recognized it he had changed since Wendy and her brothers' time in Neverland, and Neverland had changed as well.

After returning from his recent trip to Wendy's window, Peter passed his time as he always had. But he soon came to realize just how hollow his life was, how tired he was of being alone; how he missed Wendy, how he wished he too had a mother as the Lost Boys did. It was all fine and good to admire the gold and jewels he had obtained from Hook's ship or to visit with Princess Tiger Lily's tribe, but there was something missing. And so a feeling of emptiness overcame Peter until, after a month had passed, he found no joy in Neverland at all anymore. The only thing that occupied his mind was his last conversation with Wendy and how horrible he'd been to her, and how hurt he had seen she'd been by his words, and how maybe--just maybe though--she might have been right after all. He might love her except... he didn't really know what love felt like, did he?

It plagued his mind until, he decided, it was time; he was grown. It was too late to go back to the way he was three years ago, and he could no longer be happy as a boy. He must become a man. But how, exactly, did one become a man? Peter could think of only one person who might know. But would that person help him? There was only one way to know and so Peter set out for London and for answers.


	9. The Decision to be Made

Peter flew above the foggy skies of London

Peter flew above the foggy skies of London. It was late at night and he could see the stars shining above him; however, he was more concerned with finding the brightly lit windows of the Darling household. There! Finally, he had found it again. He saw the familiar nursery window but that was not the one he was looking for. He continued flying from window to window, looking in each for the one person he was searching for. Ah-ha! He stopped in front of the window. Inside he saw a room with a dark mahogany desk, a plush overstuffed maroon chair in front of it. To the right he saw a fireplace with crackling logs and another of the overstuffed chairs pulled next to it. And sitting in the chair... Mr. Darling, reading a newspaper with a small smile on his face. He was wearing a housecoat and house shoes and had the appearance of a man more happy with his life than he had ever expected. For indeed he was.

In the time since Wendy, John, and Michael's return, along with the Lost Boys, George Darling had found a confidence in himself he had never known he possessed. As a result of this he had gradually worked his way up from a simple teller in the bank he worked for and was now a manager answering only to Sir Edward himself. In addition he had a beautiful daughter and eight fine sons, intelligent and hardworking, though mischievous and playful as only young boys could be. And as if this were not enough he had the most wonderful, beautiful wife in England, a woman who loved and supported him unconditionally. Yes, Mr. Darling was a happy man, one who did not have to keep his dreams in a drawer any longer; for he had realized that every dream he'd ever had had come true.

Peter watched this man through the window and it occurred to him that just possibly being a man wasn't as horrible and wretched as he'd imagined, as if one were trapped and all happiness and hope were gone from your life forever. No, Peter decided, this man seemed to be happier and more content with his life than Peter could ever remember feeling. So, taking a deep breath, Peter rapped sharply on the window he was looking through, praying that this man would have the answers he'd been searching for.

Mr. Darling was sitting in front of the fire in his study reading a newspaper when suddenly he heard a noise coming from his window. He looked up but could not see anything outside as the lights from within were shining off the glass. Shrugging, he decided it was probably just a bird and went back to reading his newspaper.

Peter watched as Mr. Darling looked at the window for a moment then returned to reading his paper. No! Peter thought frantically. Mr. Darling _must_ see him, _must_ help him! He started knocking on the window again, knocked until he saw Mr. Darling look up and set aside his paper. He didn't stop knocking until he saw Mr. Darling walk towards the window and reach to open it up. Only then did Peter Pan stop. And as the window slowly opened Peter hovered outside impatiently.

Mr. Darling could not fathom _what_ could possibly be knocking against his window but, setting aside his paper, he decided to investigate it. He walked towards the window and as soon as he reached it and started to open it the noise stopped. Still, he was determined to see if whatever had made the noise was still there. Maybe a branch from a nearby tree? Maybe a bird? Whatever it was, the sooner he found out what it was the sooner he could go back to ignoring it and reading his newspaper.

Mr. Darling was very surprised to see that there was no bird, no branch, but instead a boy dressed in a very odd way who also seemed to be suspended in midair. His jaw dropped but he was not shocked for long. This, he thought to himself, must be the Peter Pan his daughter and sons had told him about on their return to the Darling house. But, he thought to himself, he was not the little boy they had assured him he would remain forever. Confused, Mr. Darling stepped back but gestured the boy into his office. Still amazed, for he had never actually _seen_ someone fly before, he stared as this strange boy flew into his office and stood on the carpet in front of him.

"Er," he started, still somewhat flummoxed, "can I help you?" He watched the boy in front of him start to smile.

At Mr. Darling's invitation Peter smiled in relief. Finally, someone who could help, really help! Without another word Peter walked toward the chair by the fire and sat on the carpet, beckoning Mr. Darling to follow. As Mr. Darling settled himself in his chair he looked expectantly at Peter.

"I am Peter Pan," Peter offered. "I took Wendy, Michael, and John to Neverland with me and returned them with the Lost Boys."

"Ah, yes," Mr. Darling said with a smile. "I thought so, they all told me so much about you. May I ask why you've decided to visit _me_, though?" he inquired.

"I'm sure," Peter began slowly, "that when they told you about me they also mentioned that in Neverland you can never grow up?"

"Yes, they did tell me that," Mr. Darling agreed.

"Well," Peter said wryly, "as I'm sure you've noticed, I _have_ been growing up."

"Yes?" Mr. Darling asked, inviting him to continue.

"Well, I visited John and Michael and the Lost Boys one night a while ago, and also Wendy... on her birthday."

"That was a month ago," Mr. Darling mused. "Wendy has been acting strangely ever since, I had noticed, though I did think it was because she is now a woman."

"A woman," Peter whispered with a sigh. "Yes, everyone seems to be growing up do they not?" he asked rhetorically. Mr. Darling smiled in agreement. "Well, I came on that night to see if Wendy could figure out why I had been growing. She... gave me an answer I did not like," Peter admitted, staring at the carpet.

"What answer was that?" Mr. Darling asked gently.

"She said that Hook had told her I could not love, it was part of the riddle of who I was," Peter told him slowly. "Wendy asked if perhaps I was in love with her. I'm afraid I gave her an answer _she_ did not like," Peter said, staring in shame at the floor. Peter suddenly looked up at Mr. Darling. "Tell me," he implored, "what does love feel like? For I do admit I have no way of knowing."

"Oh," Mr. Darling said with a smile. He found he liked this young man immensely. "What does it feel like?" He thought of his wife. "You'll just know. She is someone who you can't stop thinking of, and whenever you're around her you feel like just as long as you never lose her you will _always_ have something more precious than anyone could know." Mr. Darling continued to smile as he thought about love. He looked at Peter and asked him, "Do you feel like you could be happy without Wendy? Do you feel like, perhaps, you would want to be near her forever?"

Peter thought about this for awhile. "I could not be happy without her," he confessed. "Neverland holds no more joy, and I find that the things that used to make me happy before are nothing but distractions, and poor ones at that," he told Mr. Darling. "Yes," he mused to himself, "perhaps it _is_ love I feel for Wendy. It would certainly explain why I am growing up."

Mr. Darling smiled even wider. Yes, this boy--no, young _man_--was in love with his daughter, along with half the boys at her school. But unlike the prospect of those other boys he found he couldn't be more pleased. He found himself liking Peter more and more as they talked, feeling that perhaps Peter could be everything for Wendy that those other boys could not--one who understood her love of adventure, one who would not wish to crush her spirit, for the boys at Wendy's school were infatuated with her beauty and not who she was.

"So why have you truly come to visit me, Peter Pan?" Mr. Darling asked.

"I decided it was time for me to grow up," Peter admitted. "I cannot be a boy any longer. The things that once satisfied me are not what I wish for now. I must become a man." Peter paused for a moment, trying to choose his words carefully. "So the real reason I came, Mr. Darling, is because I do not know how one becomes a man and I thought that perhaps if anyone knew it would be you, one who seems to be so happy as a man, when I thought I could only be happy as a boy. Can you teach me how to be happy as a man?" Peter asked desperately.

"I'm afraid that is something that cannot be taught," Mr. Darling told him with a sad smile. "But I can show you the path." At the smile Mr. Darling received in response he was quite sure this boy would take to the task marvelously. "And the path starts with school," Mr. Darling said.

"School?" Peter asked with a certain amount of dread. "What is school?"

"Oh, you shall be taught maths and sciences and reading and writing," Mr. Darling told him. "Things every man must know."

"I see," Peter said slowly. "So when do I start going to this... school?" he asked.

"As soon as we can get you enrolled," Mr. Darling replied. "I think that St. Thomas Aquinas' School would be most suited to you," he said with a smile. What he neglected to mention was that this, too, was the school Wendy attended.


	10. What to Do With Peter

"Will you give me some time to think this over?" Peter asked Mr. Darling. "I do wish to follow your plan, but it is something I must become accustomed to."

"Of course," Mr. Darling said with a smile. "Perhaps during the next week or so you could remain in Neverland and fly back to talk every few nights? We have a lot to work out as to living arrangements and such, and any more questions you might have for me."

"Yes," Peter agreed. Then a thought popped into his head. "Where would I live?" Peter asked. "Here?"

"Well, yes, that's a possibility," Mr. Darling agreed. "Or perhaps you could stay at the school, they have dormitories you could live in," Mr. Darling mused. "There are several options."

"I see," Peter said slowly, though really he did not see at all. "I suppose I will understand it all eventually."

Mr. Darling smiled. "You will... eventually." And with that, Peter smiled in response and flew back out the window from which he entered.

After Peter's departure, Mr. Darling had much to think about. He sat by the fire with his newspaper lying in his lap, pondering his conversation with Peter Pan. He still could barely believe it... Peter Pan, in his office! It was too much to believe. A flying boy. How preposterous! And yet, there he was, and Mr. Darling felt suddenly as if he was filling the role of father for yet another boy. Not that he minded, of course. Ten children! He laughed to himself.

After the arrival of the Lost Boys, along with Wendy, John, and Michael, Aunt Millicent _had_ been right--the neighborhood had been in a frenzy when it found out the Darlings were adopting six boys. What if they caused havoc in the neighborhood, or were thieves or murderers? But the boys had settled down to life in London rather well, all things considered. Yes, it took some time, as these boys had been in Neverland and running wild for longer than any of them knew. But still... they were happy as they adjusted, and adored Mrs. Darling even more than they had Wendy, for she was kind and good and listened to their cares and woes. And they had come to love and respect Mr. Darling as a father, and trusted him to care for them and guide them. And yes, they scuffled with each other, Michael and John included, but for the most part they got along and were happy as brothers. But, Mr. Darling mused, would Peter be happy and well-adjusted in the Darling home? The Lost Boys had arrived as small children, most no older than ten or twelve, but Peter... Peter was 17, and would most likely feel uncomfortable in their house. Where should he stay? Perhaps the school dormitories were the best plan. But what if that made Peter feel unwanted? Well, he supposed, he would ask Peter when he returned. Then another thought occurred to Mr. Darling.

How would they be able to pay another child's way to St. Thomas Aquinas?

With a sigh, Mr. Darling rose from his chair. He had a lot to discuss with his wife.

Peter returned two nights later to talk with Mr. Darling again. He flew to the same office window and saw Mr. Darling sitting this time at his desk. Smiling, he rapped on the window and watched as Mr. Darling looked up and over at the window. He stood up and walked to the window, opening it for Peter to come through.

"Come," Mr. Darling said, gesturing towards the chair beside the fire. He settled himself and watched as Peter did the same on the carpet, just as he had two nights ago. "Well," Mr. Darling started without preamble, "I've been thinking about your situation."

"Yes?" Peter asked anxiously.

"Firstly," he began, "I've discussed your situation with my wife, and she was delighted to hear about you," Mr. Darling told him with a smile. Peter smiled back in relief. "She thinks it's a brilliant idea for you to go to school."

"Well, I have thought about school some more, and I have to say I'm feeling a bit excited about it as well," Peter admitted with a grin.

"Excellent!" Mr. Darling exclaimed. "Well, we don't wish to make you feel unwelcome, and we would love to have you stay here, but we weren't sure if you would feel comfortable here or not," Mr. Darling said. "You are more than welcome to live in our home and be a part of our family, and we wish you to be a part of our family either way," Mr. Darling hurried to explain. "But we wonder if a young man of your age would adjust well to our home."

"I had not thought much about that, to be honest," Peter said slowly. "But if I did not stay here, where else could I go?" he asked anxiously.

"Well," Mr. Darling began, "as I told you before, there are dormitories for St. Thomas Aquinas, as there are many children, most especially boys, who attend from great distances across England," he explained. "We thought that perhaps if you wanted to stay there, it would be a wonderful opportunity to get to know other boys your age, and you would of course be welcome here any time you wish, for dinner or holidays, or perhaps to spend the weekend."

"That does sound like a better idea," Peter said. "You would not be displeased to have me over occasionally?" he asked, uncertain.

"We would love to have you here!" Mr. Darling exclaimed. "We would love to have you live here as well," he assured Peter. "We want only for you to be comfortable in London."

Peter smiled in relief. "Well, I think I would prefer the dormitories." He paused uncertainly. "I do not think Wendy would be too pleased to have me living in the same house as her," he told Mr. Darling wryly.

Mr. Darling smiled in agreement. "You could be right about that," he said. "Give her time, though, I'm sure she'll come around," he assured.

"I hope you're right," Peter said quietly.

"Well," Mr. Darling said briskly, "I think you should stay at our house for a few weeks, at least until we can get you enrolled in school." Peter nodded in agreement. "Which brings me to my next question," Mr. Darling said, hesitating a bit. "School costs money, and Mrs. Darling and I agreed we would find a way to pay tuition, but we were wondering if perhaps there is anything of worth on Neverland to help pay for this, anything you might otherwise just leave behind?" Mr. Darling asked.

"Such as?" Peter asked, frowning in thought.

"Well," Mr. Darling began, "Michael brought back some treasure from Hook's ship when he returned from Neverland, and that's how we've been able to successfully support so many extra children," Mr. Darling said. "Perhaps there is more?" he asked.

"Oh yes," Peter said carelessly. "Lots. All from the pirates," he explained to Mr. Darling.

"Perhaps you could bring some of it?" Mr. Darling suggested. "We could sell it and such, and pay for your schooling and your room in the dormitory that way."

"That's fine," Peter said nonchalantly. "I have no other use for it. It's really just sat in the boat since the pirates were beat."

Mr. Darling marveled at how someone could be so... unconscious of how much money they possessed. But perhaps, Mr. Darling thought with a wry smile, this was just part of who Peter Pan was. He found it rather refreshing.

"Well," Mr. Darling said with a grin, "when would you like to arrive in London to stay?"

"It does not matter to me," Peter told him. "As I've said before, there is nothing left in Neverland for me."

"Why don't you come back in... seven days?" Mr. Darling suggested. "That would be a good day, since all of the children will be here and I will also not be at work."

"That would be fine," Peter said with a smile. "I shall return during that time with the treasure so you can do what you wish with it."

Mr. Darling smiled in agreement. "That would be perfect," he told Peter. "Perfect indeed." And he watched as Peter flew out the window and headed for Neverland.


	11. Peter's Arrival

Since Peter's initial visit to his office window, Mr. Darling had been watching his oldest child carefully and noticed that although she _seemed_ to be alright, one had only to look beneath the surface to see that Wendy was terribly upset and hurt, and nothing could hide the dark circles underneath her eyes.

Three nights later Peter returned with a large sack full to the brim with gold and jewels from the pirate ship, plans were made for the time of his arrival, and Peter received a set of clothing consisting of pants, a shirt and a jacket with the instructions that they were to be worn when he arrived. And it was brought to the forefront of Mr. Darling's mind that Peter Pan would be here to stay in a mere four days. He resolved to talk to his wife, who was the open ear and confidant of all their children, to seek her assessment of Wendy's possible reaction.

Later that evening all of the children had gone to bed and Mr. and Mrs. Darling were preparing for bed. They both changed into their nightgowns and Mr. Darling waited for his wife to climb into their bed before blowing out the candle and climbing in himself.

"Dear," he began as he put an arm around his wife, "how is Wendy? She seems troubled."

Mrs. Darling heaved a great sigh. "You are right George," she told him. "She is just turned 16, and that is such a tumultuous age you know." Mr. Darling made a sound of agreement. "Of course, she is most upset about Peter," was her gentle reminder.

"Yes, I had thought so," Mr. Darling said softly. "Do you think she will be upset to have him here and going to her school?" he asked his wife anxiously. "Are we doing the right thing by not telling the children?"

"I imagine she will be none too pleased to begin with," said Mrs. Darling with a soft smile. "But she loves him; she will come to remember that eventually," she told him. "Besides," she began wryly, "I am afraid she might take it into her head to run away," she ended with a chuckle as she placed a soft kiss on his forehead. "My darling," she said to him, "everything turns out alright in the end."

Mr. Darling smiled in agreement and fell asleep with the one person he loved most in the world.

Preparations for the arrival were hushed yet harried. Every Darling child knew that something was amiss, but neither Mr. nor Mrs. Darling said a word. Yet the guest room was aired and a splendid dinner planned for Saturday with the explicit instructions that _every_ child be present. And so, in a whirlwind of mystery and activity, the next few days flew by until it was Saturday and each child was practically humming in excitement.

It was nearly five o'clock in the Darling house. The boys, dressed in fine dining clothes, were milling about the ground floor of the Darling household with Mr. and Mrs. Darling trying their best to calm them. Wendy was still upstairs getting ready for their dinner. She had been their one child who seemed detached from the excitement of the mystery person's arrival. In fact she seemed detached and apathetic about most things lately, a fact which had not escaped her family's notice.

Suddenly the doorbell was rung and all activity ceased as the boys came to a standstill, looking as if they were trying their best to put their good manners on. They watched expectantly as Mr. Darling opened the front door and saw, to their surprised, none other than Peter Pan. But a Peter Pan unlike any they remembered, for here was this boy who had grow so tall wearing the same type of clothes they were, instead of the outfit fashioned from leaves and berries they were accustomed to. They could do nothing but gape in surprise as Peter smiled at each of them uncertainly, and Mr. Darling welcomed him into his house.

Peter was wondering--with a certain amount of dread--just what he'd gotten himself into with this 'man' business as he stepped into the Darling house. He smiled at each of his Lost Boys, and at Michael and John, and smiled in return to Mrs. Darling's lovely warm smile, but noticed that Wendy was not to be seen. Alarmed, he turned to Mr. Darling with a questioning look in his eye, ready to ask the question, when he heard footsteps from behind and above and the rustle of fabric.

"Father!" he heard Wendy exclaim. "I apologize for being... late..." she trailed off as she reached the foot of the staircase and took notice of the visitor, who turned to look at her... and was struck speechless. Finally regaining her composure, she managed to stutter, "P-Peter?"

Peter, though, was struck speechless himself, looking at this young lady before him. Was this truly the Wendy who had flown to Neverland with him so long ago in a white nightgown? Wendy stood in front of him with her hair piled in soft curls atop her head and a sky blue dress that was almost the same color as her eyes. Finally finding his voice, he smiled and said, "Hello Wendy," with a hopeful look in his eyes. Would she forgive him? Would she accept him back? As her gaze hardened and her mouth narrowed in an unwelcome line he could tell that no, she would not forgive him so easily.

Wendy looked from her father to her mother and back again. This was the surprise visitor? This was what they'd kept so hushed this past week? And they wished to welcome the one person who had hurt her the most into their home--_her_ home? How could they?

"Father?" she whispered tremulously, on the verge of tears. "What is this?"

Her father stood straighter. "Peter has decided to join us," he said, conscious of the silent stares from his sons.

"But..." Wendy seemed to be floundering. "Why? Why would you do this to me?" she asked with a hurt look in her eyes. She seemed to totally ignore Peter as she turned to her mother. "Mother, please...?" she asked, not sure what she was asking for. All she received, though, was a warm smile and a nod of affirmation. Peter, here? Wendy thought frantically, looking to and fro. How could she survive this? What was he even _doing_ here?! Wendy found her breath coming shorter and shorter, and her confining corset was no help at all as she tried to catch her breath, putting one hand to her chest.

Mr. Darling cast a worried look towards his wife, who only had eyes for her daughter as a concerned look crossed her face. He watched her eyes grow wide suddenly as she rushed forward and he saw her catch their daughter as she fell limp and collapsed to the ground. And all the while Peter stared on, wondering if perhaps he had made the biggest mistake of his short life.


	12. Because She's a Lady

Mr. Darling swiftly lifted his daughter from her limp position on the ground and carried her into the parlor, setting her on a plush settee. His wife appeared behind him seconds later with smelling salts, which she broke open and wafted under Wendy's nose.

Meanwhile, Peter wondered if perhaps it would be best to sink through the floor and forget about this idiotic plan. But then, Wendy came to. "Peter?" he heard her call weakly from the couch she was laying on, and he hurried to her side to see what he could do.

"I'm right here Wendy," he said gently, crouching down so he was on her level. She looked white as a sheet, he noticed, and like she was about to faint again.

"Oh good," she said dreamily with a faint smile. Peter smiled too.

He never saw the fist flying towards his face.

Wendy sat up, rubbing her sore knuckles with satisfaction as she watched Peter crumple to the floor. Ah yes, she'd been _dying_ to do that.

"Wendy!" Mrs. Darling said sharply as she hurried to crouch beside Peter and examine his left eye. "Young lady, how could you! A guest in our house, and you _punched_ him! Go to your room immediately! I have never in my _life_ seen such behavior from you!"

With a smug smile (which did not go unnoticed by either of the Darling parents) Wendy flounced up the stairs and into her room. Good, she thought. She didn't want to eat within sight of that stupid _boy_. She feared she might lose what was left of her appetite if she did. With a resounding SLAM! Wendy closed her door and harrumphed to her window seat. Who cared about dinner, anyway?

"Are you alright Peter?" Mrs. Darling asked gently to the young man laying very still on the ground. Mr. Darling hovered nearby, appalled at his daughter's behavior to the point where he could not think straight, and the rest of the boys were whispering to each other over Wendy's antics. To Mrs. Darling's surprise, Peter grinned up at her.

"I'm fine," he told her, sitting up and chuckling.

"Fine?" she echoed incredulously. "Are you quite sure you didn't hit your head?" she asked with concern. At that Peter let out a full laugh.

"Oh no," he assured Mrs. Darling. "Wendy did always have spirit, didn't she?" he asked no one in particular.

"Quite," Mr. Darling responded dryly, finally finding his voice. He was thinking though, and he was worried, for he had honestly not thought Wendy would be _this_ upset about Peter's presence. His wife was still clucking over Peter, asking if he needed a cool cloth for the eye that was already beginning to swell a bit, but Peter kept shrugging her off, not seeming to be upset at all about being decked--and good--by Wendy.

"Well," Mrs. Darling said briskly, standing, "why don't you all stay in here and get caught up while I go have a chat with our daughter?" And as she headed up the stairs, she could hear the muffled, excited voices of her sons and they began interrogating Peter mercilessly.

Peter could only gaze helplessly about him as the eight boys shouted questions simultaneously. He looked over at Mr. Darling pleadingly for some assistance, who smiled at him.

"Boys!" he said in a commanding voice, which quieted them immediately. "Let's let Peter tell us what he wishes to, shall we?" he suggested. Peter sat back on the settee and the other boys sat on the carpet in front of him, eagerly awaiting his tale.

Peter smile wryly. "There's really not a whole lot to tell," he said apologetically, then heaved a great sigh, glancing at the ceiling. "I've been making plans with Mr. Darling for a couple weeks now to come live in London," Peter told them.

"For good?" Slightly asked hopefully.

"For good," Peter affirmed, an answer which was met with cheers from all the boys.

"But why have you grown up so much since we were in Neverland?" asked John. The other boys murmured in agreement.

"I'm not sure, really," Peter said vaguely, an answer which was not entirely truthful but seemed to satisfy the boys well enough. "I just know I started growing up. And Neverland is... different," he told them.

"Different how?" asked Tootles.

"Oh..." Peter trailed off, trying to find the words, then smiled slightly. "It's just not the same for me anymore," he said softly, wanting to spare them the details of Neverland's destruction. "I suppose what makes Neverland so magical started to wear off as I started to grow. Neverland just wasn't the same without the Lost Boys," he told them, looking at each in turn. "Or Michael or John," he finished, looking at them too.

"Or Wendy?" piped up Michael innocently. Peter grinned in answer.

"Or Wendy," he agreed. Wendy had given him magic, he'd realized, magic that was better than anything in Neverland. But she'd taken it with her when she left, and nothing else had felt magical anymore, he mused quietly; and following his lead, the Darling children were left to ponder what they had discovered from Peter...


	13. Girl Talk and Making Up

Wendy didn't get to stare out of her window long, though. Within minutes of entering her room, Wendy heard her bedroom door creak open. Well, she thought with a sigh, she'd expected this hadn't she? One of her parents come to scold her, and good, no doubt. She turned to see her mother's silhouette in her doorway, and then--

"Wendy." Ah, there was the reproachful tone she'd been expecting.

"Yes Mother?" Wendy inquired dully.

"Wendy," her mother said again, entering the room, "why did you do such a thing to poor Peter?" Ooh, reproach with a heaping side dish of guilt.

"'Poor Peter' is it, Mother?" Wendy asked rather waspishly. "He deserved what he got," she told Mrs. Darling, turning back to look out her bedroom window. Mrs. Darling gazed at her daughter outlined against the view from her window. Such a wonderful girl, she thought fondly. Peter was lucky.

"Most likely he did," Wendy's mother agreed, much to her daughter's surprise. Mrs. Darling walked closer to the window to sit beside Wendy, smoothing one hand over her hair. Wendy sighed and leaned into her mother's hand. "Would you like to talk about it?" she invited gently.

"No," Wendy said in a quavering voice, nearly on the brink of tears.

"Are you sure?" her mother asked, putting a hand under Wendy's wobbling chin to turn her face. At making eye contact with her mother, Wendy burst into torrential tears. "Oh, there there, precious," she crooned, pulling Wendy into a hug and making other soothing sounds, just letting her daughter cry as she'd not let herself in so long. Soon, words starting pouring between the sobs and Mrs. Darling was able to piece together an idea of what had happened between her daughter and Peter, from their time in Neverland, through the three years without him, and then his visit to her room the night before her birthday. Wendy's sobs slowly turned into soft hiccups as she clutched her mother. Pulling back with a sniffle, Wendy wiped at her eyes and cheeks.

"I look a fright, don't I Mother?" Wendy asked in a stuffy voice.

"A fright?" Mrs. Darling echoed in surprise. "No, darling, you look beautiful," she told Wendy tenderly, lifting her chin and wiping away a few stray tears. Wendy made a sound of disbelief. "You are," her mother told her firmly. "So."

Wendy looked up but her mother said no more. "So?" she asked her mother, hoping she'd finish the thought.

"So when were you going to tell me how long you were in love with that boy?" Mrs. Darling asked gently. Wendy froze like a deer in headlights.

"L-love?" she stuttered, trying to act innocent... and failing miserably if her mother's expression was any clue. Wendy sighed in resignation. "Since I was twelve," she muttered, staring at the suddenly fascinating carpet beneath her toes.

"Well," her mother said with a happy sigh, patting her on the arm, "he is a fine young man. I think you will find that out soon enough."

"What is he doing here anyway, Mother?" Wendy asked, still perplexed.

"Ah," was her answer, along with a slow nod. "Perhaps it would be best for Peter to tell you himself, don't you think? Now," Mrs. Darling went on, not waiting for an answer, "let's go have some dinner! I made your favorite," she said, giving her daughter's arm a fond squeeze. "And sit next to him, for pity's sake," she told her daughter.

"I'm afraid he might hate me now," Wendy admitted fearfully.

"Hate you, my precious?" was her mother's shocked reply. "Why no," she went on wryly, "as I was walking upstairs he was still laughing." Wendy could only gape. Leaning close, Mrs. Darling whispered in her ear, "I do believe he loves you, my darling." She pulled back with a smile, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her daughter's ear. "Just you remember that."

Wendy thought she made it sound a lot easier than it really was, and with a sense of dread sinking the pit of her stomach she headed down the staircase with her mother.

When they came to the foot of the stairs they heard Peter talking to the boys, though they weren't really visible, but their conversation died before they could hear any of it, and so mother and daughter entered the parlor. At their entrance, all ten heads turned to look and Peter jumped to his feet, followed quickly by the rest of the boys, while Mr. Darling stepped away from the wall. Wendy kept her eyes fixed on the carpet beneath her. At this rate, she thought, she would have the pattern of every carpet in this house memorized. She could feel Peter's gaze on her, along with everyone else's. Best be brave, she thought with a sigh and raised her chin to meet Peter's eyes. She noticed his eye wasn't too swollen, which she was thankful for. She didn't want to hurt him _too_ badly, after all. Everyone was silent, as if waiting.

"I wanted to say," Wendy said stiffly, "that I apologize for hitting you as I did. It was most inappropriate," she finished with as much dignity as she could muster, still conscious of everyone's gaze upon her.

Peter laughed. "By all means," he assured her, "I more than deserved it." At this admission there was surprised laughter from everyone, including Wendy and Mrs. Darling. As the atmosphere seemed to relax, Mrs. Darling put on her brightest smile.

"Well," she said, "shall we eat?" as she gestured towards the dining room. With a cheer, everyone filed into the adjoining room... everyone but Wendy and Peter.

"I really am sorry," Wendy said nervously, no longer able to muster the courage to look at him.

"And as I said before," Peter said, "I deserved it. I was not very kind on my last visit, and I'm sorry for that." At his apology, Wendy looked up with a smile. Gathering all her courage, she asked the one question burning on her mind.

"Why are you here Peter?" she asked him softly.

"Why am I here?" he repeated thoughtfully, staring vacantly towards the ceiling and tapping his chin. "Well," he began slowly, "we shall talk about that all later, shall we?" he finished with a crooked grin--the one Wendy loved so much. He watched as a smile grew on Wendy's face.

"Shall we go to dinner?" she invited. "I'm sure you're quite hungry." Peter couldn't have said it better himself, and so they entered the room with the rest of the Darling family.


	14. Kiss Interrupted

Dinner passed as a quiet affair, with the Darlings and Peter conversing quietly about neutral topics such as the weather. Peter and Wendy had been seated next to each other, and it was plain to all the rest that they could hardly keep from looking at one another when they thought the other didn't notice. The boys got a bit of entertainment watching Peter's eye swell up even further. After a time, all were done eating and there was a lull in the conversation for a few moments.

"Well," Mr. Darling said after clearing his throat, "why don't you boys help your mother clear off the table and start on the dishes?" All the boys groaned but stood slowly to help with the chores. "And Wendy," he asked, "will you please show Peter to his room? It is only 7:00 but I'm sure he is very tired and would like to rest." Wendy nodded in agreement and headed for the stairs with Peter following closely behind. He wasn't really paying attention, just walking along absent-mindedly behind Wendy, listening to the gentle swish-swish sound of her skirts, when she stopped in a front of a door and he almost bumped into her. Wendy turned a bit to look up at him with a hesitant look on her face.

"Th-this is the guest room," she told him, stumbling a bit over the words as she gestured towards the door. "Where you'll be staying," she added.

Peter frowned in thought. "Where will _you_ be staying?" he asked curiously.

"Oh," Wendy said with a slight laugh, "right there," she told him, pointing at a door on the other side of the hall and a few yards down. Peter nodded in understanding. "Well," Wendy said, "let's have a look." And with that, she turned the shiny brass knob and opened the door that was to be Peter's room.

Peter peered inside the darkened room as Wendy walked to a small table near the door and began fumbling with something, he couldn't tell what. Suddenly he head a sharp hiss and saw a match flare up as Wendy lit the lamp. At his questioning look, she explained, "It gets dark fairly early this time of year. You'll want a bit of light while you get your things situated."

"What things?" Peter asked, genuinely curious.

"Why," Wendy said, taken aback, "your clothes and other personal items that you brought from Neverland."

Peter shrugged casually. "Didn't bring anything from Neverland besides some treasure, and that was a few days ago."

Wendy was shocked. "You don't have anymore clothes, nothing to sleep in? You left your sword behind, and all of your carvings?"

"I don't need them here," Peter answered, as if stating the obvious.

"Why ever not?" Wendy questioned. And here, Peter thought, was the root of everything.

"I am to be a man, Wendy," Peter explained, slightly impatient. "Men do not use such things, am I not correct?"

"I suppose not Peter," Wendy began, "but I thought you wanted to be a boy and have fun for always."

Peter paused, thinking, and was silent so long Wendy was beginning to think that perhaps he was not going to answer when he opened his mouth. "I did feel that way," he said carefully. "But I find that it is no longer how I want to live my life."

"How do you want to live your life, Peter?" Wendy asked softly.

"I'm not sure," Peter told her wryly. "I think it comes with growing up." Wendy smiled at hearing the words she had said to him so long ago.

"Perhaps it will," she agreed with a smile which Peter returned. After a few moments, his face grew quite serious again.

"Wendy," he asked, hesitatingly, "do you think I might--that I could--that is--"

"Yes, Peter?" Wendy questioned.

"Do you think I might--kiss you?" he blurted out. Wendy gave him the soft, brilliant smile he loved.

"Didn't you know that you never had to ask?" she told him softly. With a grin, Peter's head began to move slowly toward her own.

Meanwhile, the boys had finished clearing the table and washing the dishes and were heading upstairs to the nursery to have a bit of fun after such a dreadful chore. John, who was heading the group, halted a second when he noticed the door of Peter's bedroom open a few inches and the soft glow of a lamp visible. Maybe Peter would wish to join them? John thought excitedly. Eagerly, he headed toward the door... only to hear voices. The other boys followed close behind them, talking to one another in low voices, and John turned around hurriedly to shush them.

"What for?" asked Nibs in an irritated whisper.

"Because I can hear Peter and Wendy in there, you dimwit, and I want to hear what they're saying," he explained impatiently. Nibbs stuck his tongue out at being called a dimwit, but otherwise made no comment as the eight boys crowded as silently as they could around the cracked door, straining to hear the conversation within.

"--live your life, Peter?" they heard Wendy ask, though dimly. There was more jostling and shifting as they all tried to see in the room and hear the conversation better, a few muffled whispers that it wasn't fair that John got the best view, but in the process they missed whatever was said next. The next thing they knew, though, John had gasped (rather loudly, they thought) and was straining to get closer to the crack. Knowing something rather important must be happening, there were renewed struggles from the rest of the boys in trying to get a better spot. This was a miserable venture, and became even more miserable as one of the twins tried to crawl between John's legs for a better view, and then Slightly was leaning over John's back, but Tootles was trying to push him aside, and what with one thing and another they fell into an untidy pile inside Peter's doorway... just in time to watch he and Wendy jump apart from their interrupted kiss and figure out just what had been going on.

Giggles followed, first by Wendy at the look on her brothers' faces, then by the boys joining in, and finally by Peter, who quite began to understand the hilarity of the situation.

"Oh my," Wendy said, wiping her eyes. "What were you boys doing?" she asked her brothers, trying desperately to sound stern and failing miserably. A jumbled mix of indistinguishable answers was her only reply. With a long-suffering sigh, she rolled her eyes to the ceiling and began helping each off the floor. When she was finished she sighed again. It was probably time to be leaving the room, anyway. Turning, she gave Peter a quick kiss on the cheek and, face flaming, ushered her brothers from the room with a last glance back at Peter and a smile, closing the door behind her.


	15. School and Late Night Talks

Judging by the lack of moonlight coming through her window, Wendy figured it was at least midnight and still she could not sleep. She tossed and turned restlessly on her bed, thinking about the day's events. Peter was here, in her house. And what was he really doing here? He said he wanted to be a man, but how was he going to achieve that? These thoughts and more plagued her mind and finally, heaving a sigh, she left her bed and pulled on a robe to go downstairs and make herself some warm milk. Perhaps that would help her sleep. Fumbling with the matches, she lit the lamp in her room to carry with her and opened the door, wincing at the creaking sound it made, hoping no one had heard. Padding down the hall, the lamp providing a soft glow, she had just reached the stairs when she heard a door open behind her.

"Wendy?" she heard Peter say a bit groggily. She turned to look at him, all of a sudden nervous.

"H-hello Peter," she said, voice shaking just a tiny bit.

"Where are you going?" he asked. It was then she noticed he was wearing just the pants he'd arrived in earlier, no shirt or socks or shoes. Wendy felt her face flush. Didn't he know it was inappropriate to walk around in such a way, especially in front of a girl? With a sigh, she realized he probably didn't. Peter did not have the moral restraints instilled in him that most people did.

Peter, getting no response from Wendy besides her staring at him, frowned. "Hello, Wendy?" he said again. He watched as she seemed to shake herself and look him in the eye.

"Um, I'm j-just going to make some warm milk," she answered, stuttering only a bit.

"Ah," was Peter's only answer. Then, "Can I have some as well?"

"Of course," Wendy answered with a smile, beckoning him to follow. She would mention his lack of clothes later, she thought...

An hour or so later, with steaming mugs of milk in front of them, Wendy and Peter sat in the breakfast nook in the kitchen, laughing and talking about the things they'd missed over the past three years. Wendy told Peter all about school, and Peter told her all about his adventures in Neverland. Wendy felt a bit guilty, knowing how inappropriate it was for her to be sitting alone with a boy so late at night, clad only in their sleeping clothes. What would her mother think if she saw them? With a slight shrug, Wendy decided she didn't care and laughed as Peter related another adventure with the Indians. After a few minutes, there was a comfortable pause as they both just sat quietly.

Suddenly, Wendy had a thought. "Peter," she said, "what are you going to do now that you're here?"

Peter looked thoughtfully at his now-empty mug. "Your father said I should attend school, with you and the other Lost Boys," he answered carefully.

"Will you be living here?" Wendy asked, surprised.

"For a short while," came the slow reply. "I'll be staying in the dormitories for the most part, though."

"Oh," was all Wendy could think to say as Peter watched her carefully. Was that disappointment on her face? he wondered.

"I should like to visit often, though," Peter said softly. "And we will see each other in school, will we not?" he asked.

Wendy shook her head was a melancholy smile. "No, you will be learning the subjects they teach to boys, and I the ones they teach to girls."

"There's a difference?" he asked, confused.

"Oh, of course," Wendy answered with a small laugh.

"Well, what do you learn in school?" Peter asked. He was very curious about this.

"Oh, needlepoint, that's one," Wendy answered, starting to list her subjects off on her fingers. "We have reading, dance classes, and hostessing."

"What is hostessing?" Peter asked, still confused. "And why do you need to take dance classes? You dance very well as it is."

Wendy blushed at the compliment. "Well, it's all rather silly," Wendy tried to explain. "There are just... certain things girls are expected to know and do, and they are very different from what boys should know. I have to learn to dance to appear at balls and to please a future husband, and learn hostessing for any parties I host in my home."

Peter frowned at the word 'husband'. "What are parties for?" was his question.

"Oh, to help him be more successful at his job, to impress his friends... as I said, very silly, but it's required I take it." Wendy fought to keep from grinding her teeth as she though of the meniality of it all.

"And what do I learn?" Peter asked. He dreaded the thought of learning anything that seemed as pointless as Wendy had to learn.

"Oh, you learn science and reading and math. Dance classes too," she added as an afterthought.

"Why must I learn to dance?" Peter asked, appalled. What, exactly, had he gotten himself into? he thought, alarmed.

"To maintain a good reputation in society," Wendy tried to explain.

"Dancing does this?" was his perplexed reply.

"It's all very silly, I tried to tell you," she said wryly. "But you will use the science and math and reading in whatever job you have," she explained.

"Well, what about your job?" Peter asked.

"Oh, my job will be keeping the house, raising my children, cooking... I won't be working for money." Peter frowned. It seemed Wendy was more than capable of having a job besides all that. She was as good as ten boys, hadn't he said that to her before?

"I wonder, though," Wendy said thoughtfully. "Peter, do you know how to read or add or anything?"

"Read." Peter frowned. "Do you mean like books?" he asked.

"Yes."

Peter scratched his head. "I could read a little before I ran away from home to Neverland," he told her. "And I can count to fifty." He watched as Wendy's forehead wrinkled a bit in thought.

"I suppose I'll have to start tutoring you then, won't I?" she asked.

"What's that?" Peter asked, getting more perplexed by the minute.

"I can't believe Father never asked you this," Wendy said aloud, almost to herself. She looked at Peter. "Tutoring is personal teaching. I'll have to teach you to read and do at least simple maths before you can go to school," she explained.

"Ah," Peter answered, still confused. Then a thought occurred to him. "Wendy, you don't take math, how do you know how to do all that?"

"Oh," Wendy said carelessly, "Father got me tutors to teach me what he thought I needed to know. Every respectable girl must go to school, but he thinks I should learn more than just things that will turn my brain to mush."

"Oh." Peter scratched his head again.

"Well," Wendy said with a yawn, "I do believe I'm ready to go to bed. We should go back upstairs," she suggested.

Peter yawned and stretched as well, standing from the table. "I couldn't agree more," was his answer.

And together, they made their way up the stairs, going into their separate rooms and falling asleep within minutes.


	16. They Call Me Teacher Darling!

Wendy awoke on Sunday morning to the sound of church bells ringing the early Mass. Remarkable, she thought wryly, how refreshed she felt after only a few hours' sleep. She shivered slightly in the post-dawn chill of her room, standing in her thin nightgown while she pondered what to do with her day. Well, she had to talk to Father, and he awoke early on Sundays. It was best to talk to him before the boys awoke.

After getting dressed, she padded downstairs to find her father sitting at the breakfast table with the newspaper and a cup of coffee in his hands, a plate of toast and bacon in front of him which he absentmindedly picked at every few minutes. As she entered the breakfast room, her father glanced up from his paper and gave her a smile and greeting, then returned to his paper, passing the bacon and toast to her without looking up a second time. Wendy accepted the plate and removed some toast. She wasn't really hungry this early, but she felt the need to do something with her hands as she was a little nervous. Wendy cleared her throat.

"Father," Wendy began uncertainly, "there's something I wish to talk to you about."

"Oh?" her father asked, looking up from the paper. He folded it and set it aside. "What is it?" he questioned.

"Well, it's about Peter," Wendy began.

"Ah, yes, Peter," her father said with a smile. Then his smile fell as he asked, "You aren't still upset are you, darling? I truly think it to be for the best," he told her earnestly.

"Oh yes, father, I agree." Wendy paused. "I am sorry for my behavior last night," she told him apologetically. "It won't happen again."

"I'm sure," Mr. Darling agreed with a small smile. "As you were saying?" he prompted.

"Well, as you know, father, Peter ran away to Neverland when he was very young, probably seven or so."

"So I've heard," her father agreed.

"Well, I don't think it occurred to you that, while very intelligent, Peter has a child's basic counting skills and only rudimentary reading. He would be, at best, ridiculed at school and at worst, be thought—well, mentally impaired," Wendy pointed out to her father. She watched his eyes widen a bit in alarm.

"Do you know, that hadn't occurred to me?" Mr. Darling asked rhetorically. "I suppose I just assumed that with him being so intelligent, he must have had learning."

"Oh, I understand father, it didn't occur to me until last night either." Wendy wisely opted to not mention her midnight talk with Peter. "I was thinking perhaps I would tutor him, though?" Wendy suggested. "The school year is half over as it is, and it would be hard for him to catch up in classes anyway. This way, I could tutor him for the rest of the year and during the summer holidays and he would be ready for his classes in time for the start of the next school year."

"An excellent suggestion daughter," Mr. Darling stated with pride. "You are such an intelligent young woman. You remind me of your mother more every day." Wendy blushed at the praise; there was no person she admired more than her mother.

"I'm sure I can dig out my old school books, father. They're in the attic, I believe. I can start tutoring him today."

"Excellent, excellent," her father agreed. "But Wendy, if it begins to take too much of your time we will just hire him a tutor, you understand? I don't want you falling behind in your classes."

"Of course, father," Wendy agreed. "I'll start preparing, shall I?" At her father's nod, she stood and left the room, heading up the stairs to search in the attic.


	17. Firsts

Six months' time showed a magnificent fall day; the sky was a beautiful sapphire

blue with the trees standing in stark orange-and-yellow contrast to the gray brick building they surrounded. A mixture of girls and boys ranging from pre-teens through their early twenties were scurrying about in uniforms as bells clanged from the high tower, welcoming the students back from their summer holidays.

Mr. Darling stopped the carriage and smiled at the welcoming sight, reliving a few memories from his glory days at St. Thomas Aquinas. He had loved it here, and was delighted to have all his children attending. Especially Wendy, he thought, remembering how it was when he went to school, how girls weren't allowed an education in this establishment. It was quite wonderful, he reflected, how progressive the school was becoming. Perhaps when Wendy's children attended, her daughters could learn in the same classrooms as the boys. Yes, he thought, it would be quite wonderful. He shook himself from his reverie as he watched his children walking toward him, Peter also in tow.

Ah, Peter, thought Mr. Darling. He had made leaps and bounds in his educational progress, impressing both Mr. Darling and the school's headmaster during his application interview a few weeks ago. Wendy had worked tirelessly with the boy for the past six months and he was quick as a whip. He was very nearly caught up with his peers in his subjects, especially reading and math, which would suit him excellently in his business courses. Mr. Darling watched Peter walking with Wendy, his head bent towards hers, laughing at some joke they had made. He also noticed, to his delight, that Peter was carrying Wendy's books. A wonderful sign, thought Mr. Darling, wonderful indeed. He truly liked the boy, and could think of no one he would rather see by Wendy's side. Disappointingly enough, though, not much had happened between the two since she'd punched him the day he'd arrived….

"Father!" John shouted as they drew closer, waving his hand.

"Hello," Mr. Darling answered with a smile.

"What are you doing here?" John asked curiously. "We usually walk home, is everything alright?"

Mr. Darling smiled in response. "No," he answered, "nothing is wrong. Work was slow and I got out early and decided to pick you all up on the way. Climb in," he invited them all. It was a tight squeeze for six in the back but they managed and Mr. Darling snapped the reins, sending the horses on their way.

Inside the carriage, the boys were all talking animatedly while Wendy sat pensively in a corner, ignoring the jostling of the boys and the ragged motion of the carriage. Her day had been, to put it mildly, exhausting mentally and physically. She had escorted Peter to his first class—after which another boy was put in charge of showing him to his classes—and this detail was noted by the other girls in her class, girls, Wendy noted sourly, who suddenly started looking up at Peter through their lashes when they saw him in the halls, girls who spoke mildly and laughed daintily at his quips and were certainly looked at more often than she by the boys in her school. And Peter? Well, he had seemed… oblivious, she supposed, as if he had no idea what subliminal messages were being sent his way. Wendy had never thought of it before, but Peter's looks were bound to be pleasing and his personality winsome to others. She glanced sideways at him, only to find him gazing at her thoughtfully. What could he be thinking? she thought. She gave him a wan smile and turned to look out the window, not noticing that he continued looking at her without returning her smile.

Wendy, Peter thought, had been acting strangely most of the day and he had no idea why. School had been something what he'd expected, though he hadn't thought to meet so many people and be surrounded by them between classes, boys and girls alike. He had liked the other boys, but the girls, well… they were odd, blinking at him and laughing at everything that left his mouth. He really didn't understand them at all, he mused with a sigh. They were nothing like Wendy. After concluding that Wendy was worth at least ten boys, he had thought perhaps all girls were worth at least five, but the ones at school most definitely weren't, all simpering and, well, odd! But what had flustered Peter the most, what had really irked him, were all the boys who kept looking at Wendy. They didn't flock about her, not like the girls did around him, and he didn't understand quite what the looking was all about but he knew that it made him uncomfortable and on edge, desperate to block her or block them, something. He frowned, yes, very confusing. He would ask John about it, or perhaps Mr. Darling would understand what it was all about. But Peter's musings came to an abrupt halt as the carriage stopped in front of the Darling house, and further thoughts were put from his mind until later.


	18. Changes, or, Turn and Face the Strain

Months passed, and things fell into an easy routine. The spring semester was coming to a close, and Peter was weeks away from graduation. What with living in the dorms at St. Thomas Aquinas, Peter's life was consumed with school and little else. He began to visit the Darlings less and less, almost obsessed in his quest to become a man, until finally he seldom visited at all. He became aloof from the younger boys, preferring to spend any visits he did make with John and Mr. Darling.

Wendy was feeling the strain. Between consoling her mother she'd done nothing to drive Peter away, and comforting the younger boys trying to come to grips with the loss of the Peter they had known and admired, and dealing with her own anger at his surprising shift in personality, Wendy came home from school nearly every day reeling from exhaustion. She had thought... Oh, what had she thought? Had she really been naïve enough to think that Peter would become a man, and everything she thought she really needed to be a grownup, and yet still retain the very things she loved most about him--his sense of adventure, his loyalty, his fierce passion and devil-may-care attitude?

Peter never sought her out anymore, and she was incapable of approaching him herself, what with all the people clustering around him every second. Surprisingly enough, he still didn't seem to pay any mind to the female flirtations being thrown his way, or the over-eager attempts at friendship extended by the boys. Wendy had started to become the target of some snide comments from the girls trying to get closer to him, and was considered even more of an oddity than she had been before Peter's arrival at her apparent lack of concern regarding him.

Wendy had dark circles under her eyes almost consistently, worried about her mother, her brothers, but most importantly Peter. Had she changed something beautiful and unique? Had she damaged the purest person she'd ever known with her monotonous comments about adulthood and growing up? She had repeated everything she had ever known, and been taught to believe about becoming an adult, but had she ever really wanted that for herself, let alone Peter? No, she had come to realize, she didn't. And her conscience plagued her. What she had really wanted was the best of both worlds—someone capable of being a good husband, a good father, a good friend, and also capable of making her feel young and wild and free, full of adventure and life.

Sometimes, Wendy thought in disgust, Peter had become duller than the dullest parts of her father and John combined.

Her thoughts of Peter continued through her walk home, trudging through the slushy stuff hanging on in the sickly April sunlight. She did so wish for summer to be here, for school to have ended and have some warmth return. She was leaving school soon, she knew, next week would be her last at St. Thomas Aquinas. This Saturday she would be fitted for new dresses of the highest fashion, and starting in the early fall would begin attending all the sorts of parties her mother had dreamed about for her daughter, so that she might one day be happily married.

Wendy hated it all. She was more than that, more than a cook and a future mother, and who had ever thought that was the only thing she could ever do well? Only... what could she do besides submit?


	19. Don't Tell Them to Grow Up and Out of It

Wendy arrived at school the next day with her brothers, and anyone looking at her knew she was a woman on a mission. Talking to Peter was number one on her list of the day's priorities, and she was determined that today she would not be thwarted. Now if only she could part the sea of humanity surrounding him. God, she though faintly, did Neverland imbue one with an ocean-sized aura of charisma or something? She discarded that thought after considering the other Lost Boys, none of whom were ever this in demand. Hmph.

Finally, she thought, after wading through to get to Peter. He looked at her with something approaching astonishment.

"Hello Wendy," he said cautiously.

"Why hello Peter," Wendy answered with a fake smile. "I need to talk to you."

Peter looked around nervously, instantly deciding this was not going to be a good 'talk'. "Erm... Right now? Class starts in 15 minutes," he reminded her, glancing at his watch. Good save, he thought, proud of himself.

Wendy was practically seething at this attempt to avoid her. "Yes," she hissed, "right now. Follow me," she commanded, motioning towards a less populated area of the commons. Peter followed obediently, slightly cowed by this take-charge part of Wendy. When they reached their destination, they both stood facing each other, neither saying anything. The silence was growing unbearable.

"Er..." Real smart, Peter thought to himself. Very... eloquent. "What did you want to talk about?"

Wendy narrowed her eyes at him a moment and then heaved a big sigh. "You," she replied simply.

"What about me?" Peter asked, somewhat sharply.

"What happened to the Peter I knew?" Wendy asked, to the point of exasperation. "What happened to the Peter who flew me to Neverland, the Peter I went on adventures with, the Peter who showed me the fairies and pirates and Indians? What happened to him? What happened to you, Peter?" Wendy almost whispered this last part, exhausted from her tirade, slumping against the wall behind her. Peter stiffened in surprise and anger tinged with resentment.

Something exploded inside Peter at the accusations, the obvious disappointment in his behavior. All the pent-up frustrations of the past months, of trying to be what Wendy had told him to be and how contrary it was to his very nature, poured out. "What happened to that person?" Peter began angrily. "He's gone—for you. Because you wanted me to be a man, to grow up. And to do that, Wendy, there can't be anymore pirates or Indians or fairies, there can't be anymore adventures. Do you think I love this Wendy? You have no idea how much I miss my home--yes, _home, _I don't use it lightly. But I gave it up, Wendy, because there was something--some_one_--more important to give it up for. If you weren't worth it, I wouldn't be right here waiting. I've been waiting my whole life for you Wendy," he whispered. Peter stood silent a moment, watching a dumbfounded Wendy with tears in her eyes. "It would be best," Peter continued softly, "for you to remember that in the future." Peter reached out and ran a finger down the side of her cheek, her jaw, just along the side of her throat, then reached up to wipe away the tears falling down her face. Neither of them noticed the fact that their fellow classmates had stopped to gawk at their display, so far outside the limits of proper decorum.

He heard the bell ringing as if from a great distance and shook himself from his reverie, his shoulders slumping in defeat, his hand dropping from the side of her face. He was tired of this game, tired of being someone he wasn't really, tired of trying to be who she wanted him to be and feeling like he was going nowhere. He suddenly felt as if his one driving purpose—to be a man, and to be happy as one—was completely snuffed out, disintegrated, gone. Was there no making this woman happy? Apparently. He turned sharply and headed for his first class of the day, leaving Wendy behind him with nothing to say.


	20. Still Don't Know What I Was Looking For

Peter could barely concentrate during his classes he was so upset. Was upset the right word? No, not really, he mused. He was more frustrated than anything else, and he almost groaned in embarrassment as he thought of how he had spilled his heart and frustrations to her. Peter was shaken from his thoughts when he realized the whole class was staring at him, including his teacher. Face turning crimson from embarrassment, he nervously cleared his throat. "Erm, yes, Professor?" he asked sheepishly.

"I asked," his teacher started sternly, "if you could give us the value of x, Mr. Pan, if it's not too much of an intrusion on your time."

The dry tone of his professor's voice was enough to make him sink in his seat. "Um..." he glanced at his schoolwork from the day before. "The value of x is 17y, Professor."

"Correct, Mr. Pan," was his reply. "Now if I could have your continued attention, it would be ever so kind." Peter nodded mutely, embarrassment crashing over him in waves, as the professor turned to another student for the answer to the next question. Please, please, please let the day go fast, Peter thought silently. He didn't know how much more he could take.

The weak morning sunlight found Wendy trudging her way home, once again making her way through the slushy streets of London. As if she could make herself go to class today? No, it was Friday and she was too exhausted to think about going to school. Talking to Peter had been awful, and brought her to the conclusion that, yes, Peter's changing personality had everything to do with her and what an ungrateful wretch she was. And she had made Peter miserable in the process, taking him from his home, making him into someone he never truly was. And to top it all off, she was dealing with the confusion of Peter's confessions in the courtyard. What had he meant? To say she was perplexed was an understatement. She could have sworn he hated her, and yet hadn't he been telling her she was the reason he was here? Had he loved her, but now hated her? He couldn't love her though... could he? No, he had been avoiding her for months, barely speaking to her when he visited the house and certainly never talking to her at school. She had punched him, yelled at him, hurt him. And maybe he had hurt her too, but he must be fed up with her by now. Wendy heaved a great sigh. What in the world was she going to do with herself?

Wendy entered her house by the side door, hoping to find her mother, hoping she could make everything all right. She found her mother in the kitchen, making a pot of tea. Tea, thought Wendy, would quite possibly be a lifesaver. Her mother looked up as Wendy entered the kitchen and let her books, bound by a leather belt, fall to a chair.

"Wendy, dear, why aren't you at school?" her mother asked worriedly. "Are you quite all right?"

Wendy smiled a bit wearily. "Fine, mother. I'm afraid I'm coming down with a bit of a cold and wanted to be in fine form for tomorrow." She hated lying to her mother, but what else could she do?

"Oh Wendy, you go upstairs and get into bed, and I'll bring up a nice cup of tea for you," Mrs. Darling said in a slightly scolding tone.

"Yes, mother," Wendy answered obediently, feeling grateful to be taken care of. With a sigh, Wendy picked up her book bag and headed up the stairs for bed. She would change into her flannel nightgown and crawl between the sheets and get some much-needed rest. Goodness knew she deserved it.

That evening found Peter trying desperately to study in his dormitory room and failing miserably. Why couldn't he get her out of his head? He couldn't keep thinking about Wendy, he had too much to do so he could graduate this year. If he wanted to be able to leave the school and get a job at Mr. Darling's bank, he was going to have to do well in his classes and display an aptitude for those skills needed, especially his math class... His mind wandering again, he thought of Wendy, wondering what she was doing, what she was thinking. Did she think about him as often as he thought about her? Probably not, he thought, smiling a bit sardonically. With a shake of his head, he decided to see her tomorrow and try to sort this whole huge mess out. There were two weeks left of classes and he needed to keep his head clear, and maybe talking to Wendy would help.

Big maybe.


	21. Dreams

_Author's Note: If you've come straight to this chapter, please go back and reread the author's note of Chapter 1. There is some information you would probably like to read. Thank!_

Wendy dreamt that night, mostly memories of her times with Peter, both in Neverland and in England, but one dream stood out in particular. She had been lost in the labyrinth in Kensington Gardens, walking back and forth, turning corners and feeling a great sense of disappointment as what she was looking for was not revealed. Suddenly she turned a corner and there was Peter, smiling at her. She took a step towards him and he took a step back, and she stopped abruptly, confused, still looking at him. He still smiled at her, but when she took another step toward him he stepped back once again. _Help me_, she pleaded. _ Help me get out of the labyrinth_. He shook his head but continued smiling. _You already know how to get out_, he told her. _No,_ she shook her head. _I don't, I've been trying for hours._ He still smiled, then turned around suddenly. _Yes you do,_ he called over his shoulder. _You just fly._ And with that, he launched himself into the air, disappearing into the night. But she had no more happy thoughts and sank to the ground, crying softly. Peter was gone, he didn't love her, he was leaving her for good and returning to Neverland. She continued crying until she felt a presence next to her, then looked up sharply. And there he was, beautiful as the day she'd met him, standing with his hand held out to her. _Girl,_ he said to her. _Why are you crying?_ She smiled at him, _I'm not crying._ He smiled back. _I could never leave you Wendy. Remember what I said? _And with that he flew them both over the walls of the labyrinth, landing safely in Wendy's room moments later. He kissed her forehead and left through the window, like he had so long ago. But before he was gone he said, _Wait for me_ and then he was gone.

When Wendy awoke she couldn't get the dream out of her head, but especially when he had said _Remember what I said?_ What was it he had said? She shook her head and pulled herself out of bed. It was going to be a long day.


	22. Realization

Peter awoke that morning shortly after the sun had risen, feeling much better rested than he had in a long while. He finally had a plan regarding Wendy and he felt much more confident today. With a bounce in his step, he dressed for the day and headed out of the dormitories, whistling a merry tune on his way to the Darlings' house.

When he reached the corner of the street the Darling house was on, however, he came to an abrupt stop. What plan did he really have? Barge in and tell Wendy he loved her? But what if she didn't love him? He had to admit, he hadn't been so kind to her for the past... well... ever. His sudden insecurities left him trudging the last few steps to the front door. Reluctantly, he pushed the doorbell. Then a sudden thought came to him. What if Wendy answered the door? What would he say? What if she wouldn't let him in? He would only deserve it, he thought miserably.

Peter heard the doorknob turn and the door creak slowly open, only to reveal Michael looking at him curiously. "Hullo Peter," he said. "What are you doing here?"

This greeting took Peter aback, making him realize just how uncommon his presence was at the Darlings' now. "I, er, came to, um..." Peter stammered, fumbling for an answer. Michael looked at him expectantly. "Came to get an old textbook from the guest room," he answered in a rush. Okay, he thought, how is this going to get me where I can talk to Wendy? Miserably, he hoped he'd get lucky enough to run into her in the hall, or maybe she would be in her room and he could knock on her door.

"Oh," was Michael's reply. "Well, head on up." And with that he stepped back to allow Peter in and then ran back to his and the other boys' room. He needed to make sure his hostage hadn't escaped while he'd been away...

Peter slowly followed Michael up the stairs to the guest room, not really sure now what to do. Well, he hadn't been lying about needing that old textbook, and maybe then he would try Wendy's room to see if he could find her there. Only, as he approached the half-open door to the guest room, he realized that he could hear Wendy's and Mrs. Darling's voices and the voices of one or two other women floating out. Great, he thought with a sigh. It seemed he had found her, but with an audience. He moved into the doorway to see what was going on and could only stop and stare.

Wendy stood on a soap box turned upside down in the middle of the guest room, completely transformed with a wide, tall, tri-fold mirror and colorful dresses scattered like brightly colored jewels everywhere one looked. Currently atop her perch, Wendy was dressed in one of these colorful confections as the seamstress knelt at her feet, pinning the hem in place so it could be completed at her shop later. Wendy looked at herself in the mirror, hardly recognizing the girl staring back at her. She really did look quite pretty, with her hair on top of her head and the gorgeous dress adorning her. She admired the satin fabric with its cream and sapphire panels, the dress cut in a style similar to the one her mother had worn the night they flew to Neverland, the neckline off her shoulders and accenting her graceful neck. The color set off her skin and brought out gold highlights in her hair, making her eyes look even bluer than usual. She smiled at the mirror, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. She couldn't really forget what the point of these beautiful dresses was.

She would be attending her first party two months from now, and her mother was hoping she would find an eligible match, and she already had a few in mind if her incessant babbling about Sir Edward's youngest son Sir Daniel, so-and-so the investor, and some gentleman who owned shares in coal was any indication. Wendy sighed quietly, trying to relinquish childhood dreams in the interest of prudence. She remembered her conversation with Peter during his last fight with Hook. She had told him she must marry, but she had thought--hoped--it might be to him someday. Wendy shook herself from her reverie to concentrate on her mother once more. She had been nodding absentmindedly during her mother's gentle chattering until she heard her say "He's very much anxious to make your acquaintance, Wendy dear."

"Who, Mother?" Wendy asked.

"Why, Sir Daniel of course! You will save a dance for him on your card, won't you darling?" she inquired.

"Oh, of course Mother," Wendy answered. She couldn't help but be a little flattered that someone like Sir Daniel had paid her any mind. Of course, she had met him once or twice when visiting her father at his job and made his acquaintance, and she thought him to be a good-looking nice young man, but hadn't thought much of him beyond that. He was a fair amount older than her, being in his mid 20s, but her father always spoke highly of his hardworking nature and pleasant manner. He wasn't Peter, but then Peter wasn't exactly interested and she had to get her head around that, move on, and think about her future. "I would be most pleased to dance with him," she said with a smile.

Wendy looked in the mirror again, only to notice Peter standing in the doorway. How long he had been standing there she did not know, but from his posture she thought he had probably been standing there long enough. She met his eyes, and her dream came rushing back to her. _Remember what I said?_ Yes, but she hadn't heard. She hadn't heard what he had been telling her in the school courtyard, waiting his whole life for her, for _her._ Sir Daniel who? Of course he loved her, still loved her, and she must tell him as soon as possible that she loved him too. He smiled at her and she smiled back, but just as she was turning to see him, he gave her a quick salute and then was gone, the following sound of the front door closing indicating that he had left as quickly as he had appeared. Her heart swelled with her recent discovery. Peter loved her, Peter loved her, her mind chanted over and over. She held the delicious secret to her heart. Peter loved her, she knew it, and when next she saw him she would confess her own secret. She hoped it would be soon.


	23. The Dance

On the afternoon of the ball, Wendy found herself staring into her bedroom mirror, gazing at her reflection as if it were someone she did not know. Tonight was to be her first party, but she could not summon the excitement she felt she ought to.

Wendy so desperately wanted to talk to Peter, but he had not been by the house again and decorum had prevented her from seeking him out as she had done before. She was experiencing a great amount of frustration at his avoidance and wished to be able to speak with him once more. What did she care for dances when she hadn't been able to once see the man she loved in two months? But her mother was so looking forward to Wendy going to this dance held by Sir Edward, and making Sir Daniel's acquaintance... She wondered if Peter did not wish to see her, or perhaps if he was just busy. He _had_ just graduated and started working at the bank with her father, she mused. Father said he now boarded in a house on the other side of London, closer to the bank.

Just then, Wendy's mother entered along with Aunt Millicent. Aunt Millicent was to be her chaperone at the dance that evening and had come to help her get ready for the event, in addition to quizzing her on etiquette. Aunt Millicent looked ready for battle, with a grimly determined expression. She was, thought Wendy wryly, the quintessential battle axe, and probably the fiercest chaperone to be found. And as if she could read Wendy's mind, Aunt Millicent started barking out questions one by one. Wendy would almost be exasperated if she did not know the woman showed her affection in a gruff sort of way. With a silent sigh, she pushed thoughts of Peter from her mind and dutifully started answering the questions directed at her in between having her corset tightened, her face powdered, and her hair put up in the most modern style. Before she knew it, several hours had passed and, with a final tug on the hem of her gauzy ivory skirt, she was ready to leave. As she descended the stairs, she saw her father standing at the bottom and when he met her eyes he smiled in appreciation. He took her hands as she came to the last step.

"My dear," he said, "you are as beautiful as you mother was at your age." Wendy smiled in thanks as he continued, "Have I told you the story of how I received your mother's hand? One of my brighter ideas if I do say so myself," he commented with a satisfied smile and a far-off look in his eyes. Wendy's mother smiled softly and placed a hand on his arm, bringing him back from his reverie. Patting Wendy's hand, he wished her a magnificent time, and something about his tone made her pause. He looked, Wendy thought suspiciously, like someone with a secret. However, she knew her father well enough to know that he would not tell her, so she thanked her father and left with Aunt Millicent for the carriage, wondering what tonight would hold for her.

Wendy descended from the carriage into the warm autumn night, admiring the colorful foliage of the large oak trees surrounding Sir Edward's estate. She was followed closely by Aunt Millicent, who hustled her into the mansion almost immediately. Wendy was ushered into the ballroom where she found her dance card full within mere minutes, and shortly thereafter dancing with one gentleman and another, until finally she found herself waltzing with Sir Daniel. He was a nice man and she was able to talk easily with him, having met him before. She could tell he found her becoming, but couldn't help but wish she was dancing with someone else. Her thoughts turned to Peter while she tried to keep in the conversation with Sir Daniel, finding it a difficult task indeed. She kept the smile on her face and wished for the end of the dance so she could return home and go to sleep. And then, as if an answer to her prayers, she heard a familiar voice smoothly ask to cut in, a voice that had her heart pounding in nervousness and excitement. Sir Daniel reluctantly agreed, moving aside, and suddenly she was face-to-face with Peter, who had appeared out of nowhere.


	24. The End

Now what was Peter doing at the ball? Wendy thought bemusedly as she silently took his hand and began waltzing with him. What should she say? She couldn't tell him her secret here, in front of everyone. It would cause quite a scandal, to say the least, not to mention Aunt Millicent might have a fit of apoplexy. She had stationed herself to one side of the ballroom with some other matronly sorts there to chaperone as well and had been watching Wendy like a hawk. Wendy glanced over and gave her a small wave and smile, then returned her gaze to Peter. She looked at his carefully blank face and her heart fell. Perhaps he did not love her now? It had been two months since she had seen him….

They danced silently for a bit, Peter taking them skillfully through the steps of the waltz. Wendy noticed Peter gazing levelly at her, but she was not quite able to meet his eyes. He looked like he had something dreadfully serious weighing on him. Then, as if from nowhere, he suddenly said to her, "I have been thinking, Wendy."

Her dread increased. Was he going back to Neverland? Did he never want to see her again? She tried for normalcy, succeeding only just. "About what, Peter?" she asked.

"Adventures," he replied.

Her heart fell and her step faltered. So he was going back to Neverland after all? Quietly, she said to him, "I'm sorry there are no adventures in England, Peter."

"Really?" he replied mildly. "Well, will you join me on the balcony for a bit so we can discuss that?" Wendy looked around for Aunt Millicent and found her against the wall, watching the two of them carefully. Wendy motioned towards the balcony and saw Aunt Millicent give an almost imperceptible nod. Wendy nodded at Peter and followed him to the open French doors only a short distance away that opened onto the large balcony. She saw there were several other couples outside engaging in idle chitchat, but Peter pulled her to one side for a bit of privacy. Wendy wondered what he could possibly have to say about the subject.

"I was thinking," he said carefully, "that a lifetime with you would be the biggest adventure of all."

"Is a lifetime what you're looking for?" she asked, holding her breath for the answer.

"Of course," he replied with a large smile, the one she knew and loved so well. "Wendy, how could it not be?"

She smiled in relief. "I always hoped I would have a lifetime with you," she admitted.

Peter laughed aloud in delight, the sparkle in his eyes returning, almost glowing like he had that day so many years ago on Hook's ship, drawing the attention of some of the other people on the balcony. "So," he said quietly, excitedly, not noticing the stares he was garnering, "we shall have an adventure together?"

Wendy paused and then took his hand, ignoring the shocked stares around them as well. "Together," she affirmed. They stood grinning at each other, Wendy wanting to kiss him so badly, but knowing the scandal it might cause, not to mention Aunt Millicent's heart... At the thought of Aunt Millicent, Wendy pulled her hand away and looked around for her chaperone, who was hurrying over to them at that moment. She didn't look very happy, Wendy thought guiltily, but Peter stood there next to her looking confused at Aunt Millicent's reaction.

"Wendy," began Aunt Millicent in a sharp, quiet tone of voice, "your behavior is quite inappropriate and I think it is best we--"

"Go home?" Wendy finished for her. "An excellent idea, Aunt Millicent. And Peter shall accompany us. I believe we have some interesting news for Mother and Father."

Aunt Millicent looked like the wind had been taken from her sails, and with a confused expression ushered them out to the waiting carriage back to the Darling home.

On the way home, a thought suddenly occurred to Wendy, who was sitting next to Peter. "Did Father know you were coming tonight?" she whispered to Peter, thinking of her father's secretive look earlier. Peter smiled at her, a little abashedly. He nodded and was about to respond when they pulled up to the Darling home. Instead, he just held out his hand, which she took. And they left for the Darling house, ready to take on their adventure together.

Author's Note: FINALLY FINISHED. I hope you all enjoyed and found the ending to be up to your standards. This is what we come to: The adventures of adulthood are no less exciting than those of chidlhood, even if they don't have pirates and Lost Boys and battles, because the real adventure is the unknown. When we are children, it's not that there _are_ Indians and mermaids, but what what will happen when we meet them? And when we are adults, the unknown still awaits us. What will your first child look like, what will you finally end up doing with your life, who will you meet today? Bear that in mind before you think Wendy and Peter have a 'normal' boring life together.


	25. Notes

This is a temporary posting to let anyone know who might be interested that I replaced all the repeated and out-of-sync chapters with the correct ones, so the story should go more smoothly than it did before.


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